Flower Garden Factory

Category: Grief

  • deleted

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    by

    b2c-fgf
    in

    Land line and answering machine are gone. I will never hear you again answer the business line.. that line that was your wire to your mother – years of arguments and conversations. That line is gone. Anxiety swept over me knowing that it was irrevocable and finished. On the Winter Solstice I deleted your voicemail…

  • A file

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    by

    b2c-fgf
    in

    Facing boxes of your past, I want to play the librarian, catalog, create a history of you…at what cost? My present. what if I look at all those files and journals as old work files… things we would create for a client for a project and then toss. Do I keep one and recycle the…

  • Piecing

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    by

    b2c-fgf
    in

    You pick up a piece of the past, examine it. Take the scissors and shape it into a story: beginning, middle and end. Making sense, seeing the beauty in something lost or forgotten; the colors dull from years of dust. Placing it on clean white paper, the pristine boarder surrounds a piece of the whole.…

  • ”I’m tired”

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    by

    b2c-fgf
    in ,

    Going to sleep and waking up – crying on both ends. Something has broken or been cut inside. The weight of the world and all its ugliness is riding on my back. Hence the back ache. Death, destruction, anxiety, sooth sayers of doom, illness…emphasis the fragility of a powerful life. So much energy – of…

  • Colleen on Mary T

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    by

    b2c-fgf
    in

    Your journey of unwanted lessons learned in this territory are a gift to her and all the family. Amazing how our own cuts, wounds and scars when recognized by the other – can transform the story to one of healing –  on both ends of the conversation.  – me

  • Sunday List

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    b2c-fgf
    in , ,

  • Walking tall

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    by

    b2c-fgf
    in ,

    Never be ashamed of who you are – what ever characteristic that day may catch your ire. Notice the difference of walking into Sunday event as opposed to Saturday and how you felt afterward. Saturday was filled with gay men – younger thinner and stylish in a bowl full of lovely gold fish. Seeing them…

  • Pink Day

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    by

    b2c-fgf
    in ,

    My head is throbbing and heavy – as I wake up, play the games in the NYTs, watch the candle burn on your alter. Lately PTSD scene waft in and I breathe them stage right. Always the hospital, always that six months 2 1/2 years ago. Even my posture in bed reminds me of trying…

  • Skin

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    by

    b2c-fgf
    in , ,

    I’m fascinated by the way my upper lip feels. It’s been over 20 years since I’ve had a clean face, no hair to adorn it and the top of my head no longer has the weeds growing on top. My lips are a gash across the large planes of my head. Uncomfortably feminine. My mother’s…

  • anxiety, a disorder…

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    by

    b2c-fgf
    in ,

    I had an anxiety attack yesterday mid day. It was so easily slipped into even though I hadn’t experienced one in 6 months, not to this degree. Images of your death, PTSD are flowing into my days and I have to stamp on them like one of those beautiful red flying insects invading the US…